


Quickie

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: During Canon, Established Relationship, Humor, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-09-16
Updated: 2006-09-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 08:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8704870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Dean can't wait.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

QUICKIE  
By Shorts

Dean cocked his head, watching the waitress make her way through the throng of people toward him. He licked his lower lip and grinned. The play of fingers on the nape of his neck distracted him and he turned his head toward Sam sitting beside him. Chills ran down his back as Sam unconsciously continued to caress from his hairline down to his collar while watching people dance as he sipped his beer. Dean all but forgot the waitress as she sauntered past, giving him a backward glance over her shoulder. 

Tilting his head forward slightly, Dean relaxed beneath the soothing touch. Lulled, he let his mind wander, jolted back as he spotted the waitress smiling at him. The pressure against his knee brought his attention around to Sam, who was still looking off in the opposite direction. Shifting his leg slightly, he tapped his fingers on the table top and scanned the bar. People were milling around, winding there way from bar to tables, or dancing to the juke box that blared from speakers set along the walls.

A pause in the music and the crack of pool balls bouncing against each other drew Dean’s attention. Turning slightly in his seat, he eyed the players, debating if it would be worth setting up a game. Their cash was fine, but if the opportunity knocked, he wouldn’t ignore it.

Once again Sam’s knee pressed against his, and he turned back in his seat. “Not enough leg room there for you?”

“I’m good,” said Sam, slouching further in his chair, his arm still stretched across the space between them while he continued to lightly run his fingers along Dean’s neck.

Dean watched as Sam lifted his beer bottle to his lips and swallowed, tipping his head back to pour the remaining dregs down his throat. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Sam’s mouth puckered around the long neck. The music which had been too loud was suddenly muffled as all the blood in his body ran south. He sat there trying to remember why he had insisted on stopping here before returning to the motel room. His heart gave a skip as the tip of Sam’s tongue darted out to lick away a drop of liquid that had escaped before setting his empty bottle back on the table.

“What?” asked Sam, a small smile tugging at his mouth. 

“Nothing,” said Dean, shaking himself from the almost hypnotic vision.

Nodding, Sam’s gaze drifted as he absent mindedly ran the fingers of his other hand up down the neck of his bottle in time with the fingers on the back of Dean’s neck.

Dean watched the long fingers stroking up and down and let out a strangled groan that wasn’t quite covered by the music.

Sam’s hand stopped as he turned his head back to look at Dean and smiled.

Swallowing the lump that had formed, Dean stared intently back at the soft eyes crinkled by the lopsided grin on his brother’s face. “Let’s go.”

“Go?” asked Sam. “It was you that insisted we needed a little fun and dragged us here.”

“Yeah, well, there’s fun and then there’s fun,” said Dean, pushing his chair back as he stood. He flipped his jacket off the back of his chair and slipped it on, waiting for Sam to unfold his long, lean body from his seat and shrug on his coat.

The crowd of people surged and ebbed as they made their way to the door. Stopping suddenly as he was cut off by a couple, Dean’s breath caught as Sam walked into him, molding his body flush with his. The rest of the way, he had Sam pressed tight to his back, anchored there by his hands on Dean’s shoulders.

Stepping outside, the cool air felt good after the stifling atmosphere inside and the music dropped to a bearable level. Dean headed for the Impala at the far end of the parking lot, trying to adjust himself so he could walk without doing serious injury. Reaching the car he spun around, gripping Sam by the collar of his jacket and twisting to push him up against the side of the Impala. 

Sam looked back at him, eyes heavy lidded and mouth parted.

He shoved his thigh between Sam’s legs and leaned his weight into him. Capturing Sam’s tantalizing mouth with his own he sucked and nipped his lower lip before moving along his jaw.

“Motel is ten minutes away,” said Sam, his voice deep and low. 

Dean dropped his right hand and cupped Sam’s groin roughly, feeling the hardness beneath his palm. “Too far.” Fumbling in his haste, he popped the snap and pulled on the zipper of Sam’s jeans.

“Dean,” whispered Sam. “There’re people around.”

Taking stock of their surroundings, Dean reached around Sam and yanked the back door open. “Get in.”

“The car?” Sam’s surprise was short lived as Dean practically shoved him inside, climbing in right behind with him.

“There’s enough room, even for your long legs,” said Dean, pushing Sam back.

“Man, we’re gonna get busted,” said Sam, his hands searching for purchase to pull himself further across the seat, scrunching up against the far door.

Taking a quick look out the windows, Dean shook his head and grinned at Sam. “No we’re not. It’s dark. Besides, we’re parked away from everyone else.” It was true enough, with the neon sign giving barely enough light to see inside the car. Shifting in the confined space, he positioned himself between Sam’s sprawled legs.

“But it’s the _car_ ,” said Sam, his voice hitting a high note as Dean’s cool hands finally reached skin beneath the layers of shirts.

“So?” breathed Dean, pushing up the soft material to expose Sam’s stomach as he lowered his head to dart his tongue into the well of his navel. 

“You only allow eating and drinking in your beloved car because you’d rather keep moving than stop,” ground out Sam, his stomach muscles twitching at the teasing flicker of Dean’s tongue.

“Contrary to myth, there is something I hold more precious than my car,” said Dean, tugging Sam’s jeans past his hips and shifting back to take the crown of Sam’s cock into his mouth.

“Shit!” Sam’s booted foot kicked the door as he arched beneath Dean.

Grinning around the flared head, Dean slid his mouth over the hard column. The flutter of Sam’s fingers in his hair told him of the struggle being waged not to hurry him. Taking his time, he slid his mouth downward until the back of his throat was struck and encircled the rest with his fist. Sealing his lips, he sucked hard as he moved back up, tracing the ridge with his tongue before teasing the tiny slit.

The sound of Sam’s head hitting the window had Dean removing his mouth from his prize. “Are you okay?”

“This is not going to work,” hissed Sam, rubbing the back of his head.

“Hold on,” said Dean, reaching behind and opening the car door to back out. He tugged Sam’s jeans down to his ankles. “Turn over.”

Twisting, Sam was all arms and legs shifting over in the back seat.

Undoing his own jeans, Dean shoved them down before climbing back into the car and kneeling on the seat behind Sam. Scooting closer, he needed more room and guided Sam’s knee off of the seat and down to the floorboard.

“I can’t move like this,” complained Sam, his legs trapped between the seats and Dean’s thighs and his ankles effectively caught in the denim tangled around them.

“You don’t need to,” said Dean, sitting back on his heels and parting the firm mounds of Sam’s ass. Leaning forward, he ran his tongue down the crevasse to Sam’s center, wiggling his tongue past the tight ring of flesh.

Sam gasped, muscles trembled between pulling away and pushing back from the unexpected sensation. “Oh, god.”

“Damn,” groaned Dean, impatient to sink into the tight heat. “I need something more than spit here.”

“Glove box,” panted Sam, his head hanging with his hair in his face.

Stretching over the front seat, Dean banged open the glove box and started to throw stuff on the floor until his hand closed on a small bottle of sun block lotion. “How frickin’ long has this been in here?”

“Who cares?” asked Sam. “It’s there.”

Scrambling back, Dean popped the lid of the bottle and the scent of coconut filled the car. “Hey, how did you know this was in there?”

“You sit in the passenger seat long enough, you poke around to kill the boredom,” said Sam. “Now will you quit fucking around?”

Raising his eyebrows, Dean smirked as he dribbled the lotion direction onto Sam, causing him to hiss. “Jeezus, that’s cold!”

“I’d have warmed it up for you, but I didn’t think you wanted to wait,” said Dean, rubbing the lotion with the pad of his finger and pushing inside before Sam could speak.

Trying not to hurry, he slipped a second finger inside, pausing when a hiss of discomfort was accompanied by muscles clenching. “Sorry.”

“S’okay,” panted Sam. “Don’t stop.”

Slowing down a little, he worked deeper into Sam, curling his fingers. He knew he hit the sweet spot when Sam’s head jerked upward and his hips dropped. Easing his hand free, he curled over Sam’s back and hugged him tight around the waist with one arm. He used the remainder of the lotion to coat himself and lined up to push forward. Steadily increasing the pressure, he met resistance until he breached the tight ring.

Sam twitched, beneath Dean, his body stiffening in the confined space.

Holding still, Dean bent his head next to Sam’s ear. “Breathe.” He waited until he felt Sam’s chest expand with a deep inhalation before continuing to push flush against him. Enjoying the sensation of being gripped by velvet, he slowly withdrew before sliding once again inside.

Sam tried to push back against him, but couldn’t find the leverage. “Faster, goddamnit!”

Chuckling, Dean slid his hand around Sam’s hip, fisting him as he pulled partially out. “Ready?”

“If you don’t get your ass in gear, I’m going to finish this myself,” snapped Sam, angling his arm underneath and covering Dean’s hand with his own.

Snapping his hips forward, Dean slammed back into Sam, earning him a half strangled shout. Steadying them with his arm circled tightly around Sam’s chest, he set a fast, brutal pace. This wasn’t the time or place to draw this out. He was pretty confident no one would walk up on them, but why tempt fate?

Bracing himself so he wouldn’t be slammed headfirst into the car door, Sam squirmed slightly trying to push back with each thrust.

Dropping his shoulders down, Sam’s arms collapsed as he shuddered, a half guttural groan tore from his throat as he came.

The slick wetness pulsing over his hand and the clamping down of muscles had Dean growling between clenched teeth as he continued to thrust through his orgasm until he collapsed across Sam’s back, panting.

Sam’s legs trembled from the awkward position and from the strain of holding up Dean’s weight. “You’re heavy.”

“No I’m not,” said Dean between gasps of air. “I’m your brother.”

“Fuck that, get off!” laughed Sam.

Placing a hand on the small of Sam’s back, Dean withdrew, grimacing at the slight grunt that escaped Sam. He fumbled for the door latch and almost fell backward trying to climb out. Snagging a loose towel that had been discarded on the floor, he quickly wiped down before tossing it to Sam.

“Your leather seat is a mess,” said Sam, trying to avoid the wetness as he tried to maneuver across the seat.

“Nothing that won’t clean up,” said Dean, fastening his jeans. He heard laughter behind him and turned, seeing two women looking at him as they opened the doors to their own car. Grinning he waved at them, while tugging up his jeans.

Sam stumbled out of the car, adjusting his clothes and refastening his jeans. He spotted the women waving back at Dean and blushed scarlet. He reached up and slapped Dean’s arm down before yanking open the passenger front seat door and diving inside.

Smirking, Dean moved around to the driver’s side door and slipped behind the wheel. The mixed scent of sex and coconut filled the car and he rolled down the window to help clear the condensation on the windshield.

“I can’t believe you did this in the car,” mumbled Sam, slouching down in his seat as Dean pulled out of the parking lot.

“Why not?” asked Dean.

“Because it’s your _car_ ,” stressed Sam.

“So?” frowned Dean.

Sam just shook his head.

“Look,” said Dean, stretching his arm across the back of the seat and cupping the back of Sam’s neck. “I take care of whatever I cherish. You just happen to be at the top of the short list . . . one step above the car.”

“Gee, thanks,” snorted Sam, resting his head back against Dean’s hand and closing his eyes.

“Don’t mention it,” smiled Dean. “Oh, and next time? If you’d rather I screw your brains out instead of going to a bar, just tell me.”

Sam opened his mouth and then closed it. Sometimes, it didn’t pay to be subtle with Dean. Then again, sometimes it did.


End file.
